


talk me down, in fact deafen me

by djhedy



Series: sunrise, abram [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew Minyard Loves Neil Josten, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddles, Cute, Depression, Drinking, F/M, Family, Fluff, Foxes, Healing, Hugging, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Canon, Public Display of Affection, Sunrises, Talking, Therapy, Trauma, Truth, everywhere, excessively doing both, my usual bullshit, ok, or something like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djhedy/pseuds/djhedy
Summary: Andrew likes truth. Likes to sort fact from possibility. Work out what he knows are truths, suppositions, shit other people want him to think. Sometimes thinks watching the sun as it rises or falls, Neil in his periphery, is as close to truth as he gets.Sunrise, Abram, death. Irrefutable. Untainted.This is what he does. This is where his ground is.It’s too early for sunrise.---or neil's drawn a little closer to the truth, and andrew tries to draw a little closer to aaron
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Andrew Minyard & Renee Walker, Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Kevin Day & Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day/Allison Reynolds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: sunrise, abram [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594420
Comments: 22
Kudos: 304





	talk me down, in fact deafen me

**Author's Note:**

> edited to add: I don't seem to be continuing this fic but hopefully it's still fun to read as a one chapter andrew pov. maybe I'll come back to it one day xx
> 
> ***
> 
> well, yeah, so, i thought id have a go at this. who knows how long it'll be, don't hold me to anything. we've learned from our past mistakes. this is the sequel to "hold me close", read it if ya want, or dont, whatever. i dont think you have to know anything from it for this fic to make sense, but it'll certainly be more fun if you've read both, probably. (who knows, let's be honest, i haven't written this yet, anything could happen.) enjoy! or don't! aaaargh! xxx

Andrew likes truth. Likes to sort fact from possibility. Work out what he knows are _truths, suppositions, shit other people want me to think._ Sometimes thinks watching the sun as it rises or falls, Neil in his periphery, is as close to truth as he gets, the feel of the cigarette between his lips, knowing one of a few things will happen: maybe Neil will steal it from him, maybe he will light his own, maybe he talks bullshit for a while, maybe they just sit in silence, observing, existing. Andrew didn’t think he would meet anyone who could tolerate stillness as much as him. Either way Andrew will feel concrete hot and heavy beneath his legs, sometimes will feel Neil’s knee where it touches his, sometimes his heart beating in his chest underneath him.

He spends enough time in his head; _truth_ becomes easier to spot than you might think.

He knows what Bee would say about that, has said about that. _Truth, Andrew_ , he thinks bitterly, as if the overuse of his name will really create intimacy (scoffs internally, wonders, is that all it took, one Neil Josten comes along and calls him _Andrew_ – but then Kevin – Andrew shakes his head at that line of thought), and she’ll continue, _is subjective_.

Bullshit.

_Sunrise, Abram, death._

Irrefutable. Untainted.

This is what he does. This is where his ground is.

It’s too early for sunrise.

Andrew shuffles around in bed, feeling the scratch of material against his eyes. He opens them. It’s so dark. He blinks a little, knows Neil’s hair is close, can hear two sets of sleep-breathing in the room. Counts bodies, counts to ten. Fidgets. His knee hits something, moves over it until Neil’s leg is tucked under his.

Neil’s body twitches a little, back turned to Andrew, so he waits, patient. He’s always patient. Doesn’t know why people get the impression otherwise. Andrew’s fingers twitch between them, and then wait. He’s about to lift a hand when Neil’s legs scratch a little under Andrew’s and _finally_ he turns round. Andrew lets his hand fall limp on the sheet. Neil’s face comes into view, eyebrows knotted, eyelids scrunched up. Not until his nose is an inch from Andrew’s does Neil sigh, all dramatic, and whisper, “Why are we awake?”

Andrew shrugs. Figures if Neil wanted to see his answer he’d have opened his eyes by now.

Andrew has the sudden desire to flick him on the forehead, but Neil opens his eyes first. Looks at him. The corner of his mouth twitches. Andrew narrows his eyes, like, _what_.

Neil lets one eye close. “You woke me up.” Closes the other eye, shoves his face fully into his pillow.

Andrew knows it’s dark. Knows it’s too early. Sometimes the junkie will go on a morning run, but it’s the first day of summer practises, of morning routines. So maybe he won’t. Andrew is _wide awake_. Neil is already going back to sleep, half his face lifted back out of the pillow, mouth slightly open, soft air spilling out of it. Andrew wants to kiss him. Lifts his eyes to look out the window instead.

Andrew’s fingers twitch again.

He sleeps between Neil and the wall. Convenient, for nightmares which have him slamming back against it, where he wakes alert and has to count bodies in the room before he can start breathing again, easier when he can see Kevin on the opposite side of the room, body rising and falling, as if peaceful.

And Neil, next to him. Safe. Here.

Andrew is _wide awake_.

He listens to the two of them breathing, watches Neil’s face, notices as a soft glow emerges over the room, lighting up Neil’s cheekbone, burn scar, a curl of hair over his ear.

Andrew pushes it back, leans forward and grunts, “Wakey wakey.”

Neil stirs. After a few seconds lifts his hand to remove Andrew’s from where it’s currently stroking over his ear. Puts his hand on the mattress between them, but doesn’t let go. Says, “No.”

“It’s morning.”

“It can’t be.”

“Wake up.”

“Andrew, seriously.” Neil tilts his head forward so he’s speaking into Andrew’s neck. “If you don’t shut up I’m climbing in with Kevin.”

Andrew pulls one arm around the back of Neil, lets him curl into him. Breathes into his hair, “You have a bed. No one’s forcing you.”

“Mm.”

“Must be nearly sunrise.”

“Are you serious?”

Andrew shrugs against Neil, gathering him in a little firmer, one hand wrapped round his back, the other pushing into his hair. Neil sighs contently against Andrew’s neck. Andrew puffs into Neil’s hair, “When.”

“Dunno. Early.”

“Perfect timing.”

“ _Andrew_.”

Andrew goes very still, and so does Neil. Anticipation hangs in the air, over the sounds of Kevin’s heavy breathing. Andrew flicks through options in his head, looking for the one with the most likely successful outcome. Starts scratching a finger down Neil’s neck, feels Neil shuddering a little beneath him, trails his finger down, down, through the middle of his shoulder blades, skimming towards his lower back – Neil jolts a few inches away, eyes flying open, frowning at Andrew. He shakes his head. “No. _No_.”

Andrew doesn’t move his hands, lets them rest a centimetre off Neil’s body. Leaves them in the general vicinity of the danger zone, just seconds from Neil’s lower back, where he’s weirdly sensitive. Almost ticklish, you might say. “Up.”

Neil sighs. But he backs out of the bed, somehow manages to land feet first. Throws a hoody at Andrew and drags one over his head. Andrew hears the coffee machine in the kitchen, detours to the bathroom. Pissing and coffee, two of his favourite morning routines. He yawns in the bathroom, yawns in the kitchen, lets Neil glower at him, takes his mug and cradles it in his hands, and leads the way to the roof.

It’s fucking _freezing_.

He sort of pretends not to shiver for a few minutes, but gives up quickly when Neil throws a blanket around them and shuffles so that their bodies are touching. Andrew glances at him. Neil looks almost happy, eyes all dark and heavy from sleep, mouth twitching up around his mug, knees drawn to his chest and shivering. Andrew tucks one hand under Neil’s calves and lifts his legs, places them over where his are crossed, puts Neil’s feet into his lap, tries to tuck them under his thighs. It sort of works. The blanket has fallen a little and Neil lifts it back over Andrew’s shoulder, stretches it around his front. When Andrew looks up he looks amused. Neil says, “You done arranging?”

Andrew nods, picks his coffee back up, holds it with one hand and holds the blanket tight with the other. He needs more hands. But then Neil does a trick, takes both ends of the blanket into one hand, his coffee in the other, and smiles knowingly at Andrew. Andrew frowns, irritated. But he transfers his coffee to his other hand and snakes his now free one round Neil’s back, hand settling at his hip. He sighs and looks back out across campus, towards the faint horizon. “ _Now_ are you done?”

Andrew nods. “Now.”

Neil is probably smiling, leans their heads together a little.

It doesn’t take long for the sun to rise. Or maybe it does. Andrew only ever sees this part. The part where the sky is already pink, soft, expectant. Already lit up and waiting. Everything quiet, anticipatory. No loud jocks around to ruin the perfect silence, the only sound he can hear is birdcall, Neil’s gentle breath next to him, the scratch of his toes wriggling beneath him, a blow of air puffing over his coffee. The coffee doesn’t need cooling. Andrew sips his and lets warmth flush through his skin. Squeezes Neil a little and tries to transfer some of the warmth over.

“Sunrise,” Neil says, looking away from him, the word startling Andrew from his reverie.

Damnit.

He’s right, a second later the sun appears – barely visible over distant hills, over towers and concrete and trees and cars and _ephemera_ , honestly, sometimes the sight of it all makes Andrew feel –

He sighs. Annoyed. There’s a small half-sphere on the horizon. It’s devastatingly _orange_. Andrew feels warm. Neil nudges his elbow into him. Andrew sighs, lets it take as long as possible. He’s annoyed. “Abram,” he mutters.

Feels Neil all calm next to him. “Death,” he says, gentle, letting the word surround them tightly before letting go. He grins. “I win. I’m a _wizard_.”

“You are not a wizard,” says Andrew, tightening his hand around Neil’s waist, feeling him warm and safe beneath his fingers. “Wizards do not exist.”

“How can you say that in the face of such proof.”

“People have been estimating the time of the sun rising for a long time, Neil.”

“ _Abram_ ,” Neil insists, early and sleepy and idiotic, turning his face away from the sky to grin at Andrew, half his face lit up. Stupid. Beautiful. “You’re just jealous because you’ve never won.”

Andrew drains the rest of his coffee, removes his arm from Neil to a small noise of disagreement, takes Neil’s mug and sets them both aside. He crosses his arms and tucks his knees up, jostling Neil’s legs off him. Andrew looks back at the sky and says, “Jealousy. Remind me, what is that?”

Neil still has his fingers clutched in the blanket, and slowly, ever so slowly, arranges himself around Andrew, knees up either side of his body, one hand still directing the blanket, the other he tucks under Andrew’s elbow. He leans forward and speaks directly into Andrew’s ear. “Oh you know. Like when I got here and thought you and Kevin were a thing.”

Andrew is startled. He says – well he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to look. He turns his head, slowly, meets Neil’s eyes, and raises an eyebrow. Says, “In his dreams.”

“Mm,” says Neil, smirking at him, “or in yours. What is it you told Matt – you like Kevin’s hair?”

“I did not say that,” says Andrew, trying to maintain a look of composure while rifling through his thoughts for the exact words. He finds them. “I said _I think it’s the hair_. Don’t get excited.”

“He does have good hair,” says Neil. “And you like them tall, apparently.”

“No,” says Andrew, really does give into the urge now, lifts his hand and flicks Neil lightly on the forehead. “Get your hearing tested. I suggested that his hair, and height, are two elements of conventional attraction that might explain –”

“You like them _tall_.”

Andrew frowns. Says all slow, “And that explains you _how_?”

“Ouch. Wait. I don’t know where to go first, the dig to my height or the fact that you _like me._ ”

The sky is ever brightening behind Neil’s absurd look of amusement, knowing as he does that Andrew loves him, knows, knows, one arm half wrapped round Andrew, the other linked into his elbow, face awake and pale against the stupid freezing cold air, grinning at a sunrise Andrew once thought would never happen again.

Never thought this, either.

Sometimes still doesn’t.

What he says, almost just mouths into the air, is, “Abram,” and Abram turns towards him, a little reserved now, something endless and quiet in his eyes that he flicks to Andrew’s lips, and Andrew lifts his hands up to hold him, and kisses him.

Never thought this.

Sometimes still.

Later, when they’re still huddling together under the blanket – though it’s not really all that cold, the summer sun all settled in the sky steadfast and heating up the day inch by glorious inch, Andrew almost feeling the tension in his muscles uncurling – when cigarettes have been lit, and words made stupid from lack of sleep and lack of sunlight and lack of sense have all but blurred away with the last remnants of darkness – Neil says, “Why today?” indicating, Andrew assumes, their predilection lately to watch the sun rise, to play Neil’s stupid game that does not prove he’s a wizard, to murmur truths between them that settle Andrew like rocks in his stomach.

Andrew shrugs, sucks in a breath from his cigarette. Lets it out and says, “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Hmm.” Neil lets this sit between them. Eventually says, “Aaron came back yesterday.” Andrew doesn’t respond. “Everyone’s back. Practise starts today.” Neil waits a beat, holds his own cigarette close to his face. “You guys are seeing Bee this week, right?” Andrew can feel Neil’s eyes on the side of his face, but he blows smoke into the warm air, doesn’t reply.

Likes truth. Things he can categorise into _fact_ , into _possibility_.

Andrew knows he can’t put this off forever. Wishes he could. Feels irritated, briefly, that this isn’t one of those things he can shuffle from _fact_ into _possibility._ Lets the irritation flood out of him like warm air. Pointless.

Says, “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> i like sunrises.  
> you can follow me on tumblr? if you want? i'm djhedy on there. susceptible to yelling and/or prompts. xxx


End file.
